


Stark's Sharpshootin' Wild West Stampede

by uofmdragon



Series: CC Trope Bingo [16]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Showbusiness, Alternate Universe - Western, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Secret Relationship, white savior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uofmdragon/pseuds/uofmdragon
Summary: Clint Barton has spent some time among the Cheyenne people, so of course when the Cheyenne have a problem at Stark's Sharpshootin' Wild West Stampede, they go to Clint.  Clint is left trying to find someone to listen to his warnings, before the show turns into a bloodbath.Warning: This is set as a Western Show set just post-American Civil War (the historical event, not the Movie/Comic Event) and has period accurate word use as well as slurs. Please use caution when reading. More information is in the end notes.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: CC Trope Bingo [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490282
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Stark's Sharpshootin' Wild West Stampede

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by Cakeisnotpie. All remaining errors are my own.
> 
> Warning: This story contains racism and homophobia as well as period accurate names and slurs. For more information, see the end notes. 
> 
> Written for CCTropeBingo, where I'm also include two AUs along with the trope.  
> Trope: Secret Relationship  
> AU: Western  
> AU: Showbusiness

Clint was leaning over the fence, watching the horses in the makeshift corral looking for signs of weakness or injuries. A shadow appeared next to him and slowly moved until the man was directly behind Clint. They were quiet for a long moment.

"The grey," Clint said, slipping easily into the language of the man as he watched the horse. Really, there were only two people in camp that could produce the outline and Steve Rogers did not loom. "She's going to need new shoes."

The man behind him was quiet for a moment, evaluating. "You're correct Hawkeye."

Clint smiled, hearing the name that the Cheyenne had gifted him. He glanced back to look at Red Wolf and nodded. "What's the problem?"

"One of the whites is bothering one of ours," Red Wolf said.

"Bothering?" Clint repeated.

Red Wolf sighed and nodded. "There will be trouble if it's not stopped."

Clint nodded. "You want me to go to Coulson."

"They're more inclined to believe you," Red Wolf said, bitterness coloring his voice.

Clint nodded. "I'll see what I can do Red Wolf, but it might be best if I speak to the girl."

Red Wolf nodded, turning to step away. Clint followed after, glancing around as Stark's Sharpshootin' Wild West Stampede set up their camp. Stark was an entrepreneur and even in Clint's head, the word was full of venom. Businessmen rarely cared for the others. Stark seemed different, but it was still too early to tell, especially since Stark decided to start the show on a whim.

For the most part, Stark treated all the people well. He hadn't missed a payment and if anyone happened to get hurt during the show, well, they were taken care of. Clint had been in other shows where that hadn't happened. Other shows let him wear his buckskin and shoot arrows instead of those awful revolvers and rifles, which were too fucking noisy. Stark insisted that he was a white man and should be treated as such. Never mind that Clint tended to prefer his time spent with the various tribes, especially the Cheyenne. 

But the Cheyenne had taken him in after the circus had brutally kicked him out. He'd lived among them for a few years before he left. Since joining Stark's Stampede, his respect for the tribes had been noticed and they often used him as a go-between management.

Phil Coulson was the man that oversaw the Indian Component to Stark's Stampede. Stark oversaw the whites with wife Pepper overseeing the women and his friend Rhodes overseeing the blacks. Coulson tried and was mostly successful. He just didn't always understand why one group did things one and the other group did things the other. Stark had hired people from multiple tribes and there were long standing feuds between them. Best not have the Cheyenne and the Crow camp next to one another. 

Clint followed Red Wolf into their camp and to the tent. He frowned when he realized where he was being led to. Red Wolf stood outside the flap and tilted his head for Clint to go in.

"Moonstar," Clint said, stepping in.

"Hawkeye," Moonstar greeted. She was young, probably too young for such a responsibility as shaman, but she'd been trained by her grandfather. So, she was now one of the few to keep their ways alive. 

"Red Wolf says you have a problem," Hawkeye asked.

"Yes, the one called Gyrich," Moonstar said.

"What has he done?" Hawkeye asked.

"Nothing, yet, but I've seen that look in a man's eye. He's waiting for an opportunity to strike, and if he attacks me, there will be bloodshed."

Clint nodded. "Has he said anything?"

"Sweet things said in a threatening manner. I know, if given the opportunity, he will force his seed upon me, defile me, and I will be forced to fight back. They will say I led him on, that I tricked him, that I tempted him."

"I know; has he said this to anyone else? Are there any other targets?"

"Any of us who are young and pretty."

Clint asked a few more questions that he knew Coulson would want to know and then left. He hurried to Coulson's tent, nodding at Jasper who was outside the door.

"He busy?" Clint asked.

Jasper blinked. "Not yet. You want to speak to him?"

Clint nodded.

Jasper stepped inside and a few minutes he was stepping out, holding the flap back so Clint could enter.

"Mr. Barton," Coulson said. "Are my employees unhappy?"

"I haven't heard any complaints about you," Clint answered honestly. "They do have a concern."

Coulson arched an eyebrow. "About what?"

"Gyrich. I think he's one of the new cavalry members."

Coulson hummed, eyes closing, before nodding. "Yes, he is, also doing some paperwork for Mr. Stark."

"He hasn't done anything yet, but when Moonstar says she doesn't like the way a man looks at her or some of the women. Well, I tend to believe her."

"You tend to believe the Indians," Coulson said.

"Fine, take it as a warning. He lays a hand on Moonstar, there will be blood."

"Gyrich is a good Christian man," Coulson said. "Mr. Stark makes sure he hires men of a certain caliber."

"Mr. Stark can be fooled," Clint pointed out. "Moonstar says she caught Gyrich looking at some of the women. Moonstar wouldn't lie to me."

"Mr. Barton, we both know that you tend to rush to defend the Indians and while that is a good thing at times, your bias is well known."

"Well, my hope is that you'll remember this conversation should something occur."

"I will remember you brought her concerns to me," Coulson said. "But Mr. Stark only hires good Christian men for management positions. A position which could be yours, if you'd demonstrate your faith a bit more."

Clint arched an eyebrow and shook his head. "Don't feel the need to demonstrate anything." Especially since in all his travels, he wasn't so sure that any religion was the one true way and if he had to choose, he'd rather go with the Cheyenne beliefs.

"Mr. Barton, I'm sure you come from good Christian stock."

"Maybe I prefer the Cheyenne way, less guilt," Clint added. "We both know that a good Christian would not approve of my… dalliances." He smirked, watching the color come to Coulson's cheeks. "The Cheyenne don't care."

"Very well, Mr. Barton, I shall keep it in mind," Coulson said.

Clint nodded and walked out, already considering his options. With that he turned and headed toward the women's area of camp. He wasn't too surprised to see the Widow Romanova standing outside her tent waiting for him. Clint hesitated, but this was for his people and he'd be damned if he was going to let the tribes be killed because somebody couldn't keep their hands off a woman.

"Mr. Barton," Romanova said. "I've got some tea; won't you join myself and Miss Danvers."

Clint glanced in to see Miss Danvers sitting at the table. "Thank you, Mrs. Romanova."

He stepped inside and took a seat.

Mrs. Romanov tsked lightly. "You're supposed to pull my chair out for me. But I suppose one must forgive your lack of manners after your time spent with savages."

Clint grit his teeth. "I don't believe them savages, ma'am."

"No, you don't," Miss Danvers agreed as Mrs. Romanova took a seat. 

Mrs. Romanov snorted. "I've invited you for tea often enough, but you've always turned me down." She started pouring the tea. 

"I need your help, ma'am," Clint said.

"Now, Mr. Barton there are some social necessities that need doing," Mrs. Romanova said. "First, we ask how one another is doing. Then how you think each other will do in our upcoming show and whether this town will be a profitable venue for our business. Then we can get to why you're here."

"Don't forget the discussion on whether we'll have good weather for the show," Miss Danvers added.

"My apologies," Clint said. "I'm not one for such talk. I'd rather get to the point."

"Ah, but Mr. Barton, for my help, you must at least try," Mrs. Romanov said.

Clint scowled. "And how are you this day, Mrs. Romanov?"

"Why, I'm doing well. And you Miss Danvers?"

"Quite well," Miss Danver said. "Mr. Barton."

"Worried," Clint answered. "Are you two prepared for the show?"

"My revolvers are ready." Natasha took a sip of her tea.

"As is my rifle." Carol took a sip of hers and gave a pointed look toward Clint's cup.

Clint picked up the glass and sniffed it, but took a sip. He tried not to make a face, but based on the bemused smiles on the women's faces, well, he failed at that. "And do you think Mr. Stark will take in a tidy profit?"

"Oh, but Mr. Barton, are you ready for your part?" Carol asked.

"As ready as I care to be," Clint answered, taking another sip.

"Try a scone," Natasha said, pushing a plate toward him. "They're a bit hard, but well, when one is with a traveling show, one must forgo some comforts."

Clint took the pastry and bit into it, before giving Mrs. Romanov a pointed look.

"As to your earlier question, well, yes. Mr. Stark has yet to lose money on this venture of his. I think part of that is to his management."

"And the fact that with Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes, well, they're all handsome men," Miss Danvers said.

Mrs. Romanov hummed. "Oh, and Mr. Wilson and Mr. Rhodes are fine examples of the black man. Something for everyone, with that Red Wolf representing our Native group."

"Red Wolf is a good man," Clint said. 

"Did you know him before?" Miss Danvers asked.

"Our paths have crossed," Clint said. "The band I traveled with, well, I'm not sure where they ended up." Most likely they were dead, but he refrained from mentioning that. "The tribes were quite surprised by the languages I know and that I try to converse with them in their own."

Miss Danvers and Mrs. Romanov exchanged a look. "You know their language?"

"Some, each tribe is different. Some are closer than others, but…" He shrugged. "Do you think the weather will hold?"

"Miss Munroe thinks it will and she's never been wrong," Miss Danvers answered.

"Mister Munroe?" Clint asked.

"One of Rhodes' people," Miss Danvers said.

Clint nodded. He tended more toward the Native part of the camp. Still, something in the way Miss Danvers was speaking made Clint think there was more to this story. Rhodes was in charge of the black men. Why hadn't she just said men?

Mrs. Romanova cleared her throat, breaking his thoughts. She smiled at him. "Now, Mr. Barton. You said you worried about what?"

"Bloodshed," Clint asked.

"Well, what could we do to help prevent that?" Mrs. Romanova asked.

"There's rumors you've helped some other women in the show," Clint said. "And well, Mr. Coulson, he's not willing to believe my warnings."

"And your warnings are?" 

"Moonstar won't meekly allow a white man to defile her," Clint answered. "She'll take his hand off and well, she's an injun, so of course, they'll blame her for tempting him."

"When she's done no such thing," Miss Danvers said. "Well, who does she suspect?"

"Gyrich," Clint answered.

"New to the management team," Mrs. Romanova said.

"What did Mr. Coulson say?" Miss Danvers asked. "I assume you went to see him."

"That Mr. Stark only hires good Christian men, who would never befoul a woman," Clint answered.

Mrs. Romanov froze, teacup halfway to her mouth. "Did he?"

Clint nodded, glancing to see Carol's head was down.

"Carol!" Mrs. Romanov scolded.

As Miss Danvers started laughing. Clint glanced between them and could see the amusement on Mrs. Romanova's face as well.

"Did I miss something?" Clint asked.

"Well, besides that I'm not sure a 'good Christian man' exists," Mrs. Romanova answered. "There's Mr. Coulson's nighttime activities with yourself."

Clint felt the blood drain out of his face, because no, they couldn't know about that. He'd been careful.

"Oh, don't get yourself in a tizzy, Mr. Barton," Mrs. Romanov said. "I'd give you a chance to buy my silence before I sold that bit of information. Even if you have avoided my invitations."

"How?" Clint asked.

"Saw you one night, decided it best to find out why you were out past midnight," Mrs. Romanov answered.

"What were _you_ doing out past midnight?" 

"Well, that would be telling," Mrs. Romanova answered. "You're good, not as good as me." She set her glass down. "Well, I do believe Miss Danvers that we'll be having to deal with this."

"Well, we certainly don’t want a bunch of white men attacking our fellow sisters," Miss Danvers said. "Nor do we want war between our fellow performers."

Clint eyed them both.

"I don't suppose you'd be opposed to inviting Moonstar to tea," Mrs. Romanov said. "We would like to make sure that we're not stepping on any of her toes."

"I'll relay the message for you," Clint agreed.

"And you'll offer to escort her," Miss Danvers added.

Clint nodded.

"Excellent," Mrs. Romanova said. "And you'll be stopping by for tea more often?"

"Yes?" Clint said.

Mrs. Romanova smiled and Clint swallowed, feeling very much like a fly caught in a spider's web. "Good."

Clint nodded. He glanced at the door, but a gloved hand landed on his.

"Not yet, finish your tea, and tell me - do you think you could beat Carol or myself in a shooting contest."

"Yes," Clint answered. "The name the Cheyenne gave me. It means Hawkeye. I don't miss, though I'm more comfortable with my bow."

"And why don't you…" Miss Danvers trailed off. "Stark."

"I'm a white man, I should act like it."

Mrs. Romanova snorted. "Sometimes, Mr. Barton," she looked at him over her teacup. "It's best to play into the stereotypes. Let them see what they want that way they don't see the knife until it's too late."

Clint stilled, meeting her eyes. "Are you actually a widow?"

Mrs. Romanova smiled widely. "Now that's your best question all day and, of course, one I won't be answering until you've done a few jobs for me."

Clint glanced at Miss Danvers to see her giving a smug look. He looked back at Mrs. Romanova. "Jobs?"

"Oh yes, this world is vastly unfair to women, blacks, and Indians and well, we have a few like minded people that are wanting to even out the score or at least try and save a few that need help. Sounds like something you'd be interested in?"

"If you're serious about helping, yes."

"I am, but I have very few contacts among the Natives."

Clint nodded. "And I'm a means to get those contacts."

Mrs. Romanova nodded.

"Alright then," Clint agreed.

*

Two weeks later and in a new town, Clint slipped into Coulson's tent to see the man sitting on his bed, waiting for him.

"Phil," Clint said, moving closer to him.

"Gyrich is dead," Phil said. 

Clint stilled, arching an eyebrow. "What?"

"Gyrich that man that has been saying uncouth and unbecoming things to my crew."

Clint tilted his head. "Has he? I thought you didn't believe me."

Phil sighed. "I know, but I got to thinking, which is all I could do at night since you decided to avoid me."

"I thought you wanted to be a good Christian man," Clint said, stepping toward Phil.

"May the good Lord help me, but I am weak to your charms," Phil said, holding out his hand. "And I have missed you."

"How'd Gyrich die?" Clint said.

"Got bit by a spider, infected, went to get medical treatment and well, that storm that came up out of nowhere last week, must have washed him off the road and into a ravine. Message came earlier today." He gestured for Clint to come closer.

Clint stepped forward again. "And you're telling me, because…?"

"So you can let Moonstar know," Phil said.

"I thought the rule was no business," Clint said, moving forward again to Phil's hand.

"It's supposed to be, but I thought you should know," Phil said, pulling him in.

"So how'd you find out I was right?" Clint said, bracketing Phil's hips his legs as he knelt over Phil.

"Decided to look into it."

Clint tilted his head, stroking Phil's jaw. "Look into it?"

Phil nodded. "Get a man drunk enough and he'll spill all kinds of dirty secrets. I was gathering evidence to bring to Stark when he took ill."

"Oh," Clint said, considering it.

"My apologies, you caught me on a very bad day," Phil said, stroking Clint's shirt and starting to undo buttons. "I was rude to you because I'd been accused of not being impartial. It doesn't excuse it, but well, I had a lengthy discussion with Father Wagner, who pointed out that I'm not paid to be impartial. I'm paid to make sure that the Indians are ready and able to perform. They're in my care."

"They did ask me to go to you because they felt it would be better to come from me."

Phil’s eyes narrowed.

"Because I'm white," Clint scowled.

Phil tugged at Clint's pants. "That skin is pretty white down there."

"Well, maybe, but sometimes… I don't like what others do and how they act," Clint said, squirming, but Phil was rubbing his fingers against bare skin.

"We all have the capacity for good and evil. You're certainly a good man. Will you accept my apology?"

Clint smirked, leaning closer to Phil. "If you make it up to me."

Phil grinned. "I can do that." He tugged Clint into a kiss, falling backward onto the bed.

*

"Steve Rogers," Clint said.

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"A good Christian man."

"He's fucking Wilson."

"Huh," Clint grunted. "Rhodes?"

Natasha grinned. "Fucking Carol out of wedlock with Stark's full knowledge."

"Barnes."

Natasha laughed. "He's fucking me when I let him."

**Author's Note:**

> Natasha uses 'savages' as a slur for Native Americans. She does this to provoke a reaction from Clint and see if he can control his temper, if he has to. She wants to know if he could handle himself where it is used and they need to gather information or will he let his opinions get in the way. It used exactly twice, once when Natasha says it and once when Clint refutes the word.


End file.
